


Oh gibbity, adhere to the order!

by MufinXoxo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Idk why I wrote this but HERE IT IS, career choices, there's a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:49:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MufinXoxo/pseuds/MufinXoxo
Summary: The path that led to Voldemort's rather questionable career choice is unveiled, along with the undying love he has for his cat.





	1. Three choices

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is absolute crack.
> 
> I wrote this about five years ago in 2015 (its 2020 now but I've set the date back to when I first finished it), and posted it on ff.net (same username), but have decided to transfer it here as well. I can't say much for the quality of writing, as I like to think I've improved since then, but I did do a quick read through and fixed some typos. I hope it's a fun read nonetheless.

He stood in front of the wooden door, contemplating if he really should knock at all, or if this would just be a waste of his time. A slight chill hung in the air at the castle of Hogwarts, a sign that winter was coming and would sweep over the castle grounds soon. His last winter within these walls.

Well, better get the meeting over with. He rapped on the door three times.

"Come in." a voice from the other side said, and he entered.

"Ah, Tom, please have a seat." Professor Dumbledore gestured to the chair opposite his cluttered desk, peering at Tom over his half-moon spectacles.

"You wanted to speak with me, Professor?" He regarded Dumbledore, suspicious. Conversations with the man had never boded well in the past. They probably never would.

"Yes. As part of a student support program, we asked you to fill out a questionnaire about your future aspirations, as I'm sure you recall." Dumbledore placed his feathered quill on the table and pulled out a piece of parchment.

"Yes, I remember." Tom settled down in the chair opposite reluctantly, feeling that this conversation was going to drag on. The cushions were comfy, fluffy like cotton candy, and he was pleased that at least he was sitting comfortably in an uncomfortable situation.

"Well, the teacher responsible for you, your head of House, Professor Slughorn, is very busy. I'm sure you're aware why, with the, how shall I say, _questionable_ people in your house destined to become Death Eaters _oh my_!" Dumbledore was visibly surprised, his thin eyebrows reaching his hairline.

"Death Eaters is not a term I've come across before, Professor." Tom pointed out, wondering what on earth the old man meant, when really, his cat was waiting for him back in his dormitory and needed to be fed.

"Exactly, Tom, exactly! It is not a term any of us know. Even I don't know where it came from. I wonder..." Dumbledore mused, "Not very imaginative as well, I think. Purple Pumpkins has a nicer ring to it..."

"Professor, I really have something I need to do." His precious ball of fluff was not getting any less hungry whilst he was wasting time here. Tom suspiciously eyed the wizard. Was that Dumbledore's plan? To make Tom's cat so hungry that the cat would hate Tom forever more?

"Yes. That is exactly it - why I must speak with you. On the career section of the questionnaire, your first choice was world domination."

Tom did not reply. What was there to say? Everybody had different aspirations in life.

"It's not a branch where many wizards find themselves with a successful career. In fact, it’s a ludicrous option at best."

"But it's been my dream for as long as I can remember." Tom protested.

"Yes, I understand." Dumbledore said, understanding in his eyes. He stood up and placed a consoling hand on Tom's shoulder, "But sometimes the limitations of career opportunities force us to make grave sacrifices."

Tom didn't say anything.

"Let me show you something." Dumbledore went to a large bookcase in the corner of his room, pulling out a bright red book. He handed it to Tom, "I once dreamed of being able to knit socks, but alas, it seems I never properly learnt it. Whenever I try, there are holes everywhere."

Tom's eyebrow twitched imperceptibly, "I do not understand what this has to do with my career choice."

Dumbledore sat down, the old chair creaking, "Just an anecdote. Let me see." He tapped his chin.

Tom tapped his foot.

"Ah, yes! How about this? Leave world domination on the list, but reverse the order of it."

"Reverse it, Professor?" Tom recalled not putting that much effort into his third choice. He had prioritised his A and B plan, "Do I have no other options?" What _had_ his third choice been?

"I am afraid not."

Tom sighed, getting the distinct impression that he would not be able to go unless he agreed. "Fine."

"Excellent!" He heard Dumbledore exclaim as he left the room, and he shook his head to get his mind to focus.

His poor cat must be starving by now.


	2. Don't go into sales

Like all societies, the wizarding world was partial to extravagant and frivolous trends. One of these trends, back in the day, were the enchanted shoes. The trend quickly frazzled out, like so many before it and after it. (The only trend that would remain constant was that of the Pygmy Puffs)

It was this trend (the enchanted shoes, not the fur balls) that Tom Marvolo Riddle regretted being enticed by.

Another completely unrealted regret was that he had not put more choice into his third career option. Like most other students, he had thoroughly considered his first option, spent some time thinking about his second, and completely disregarded the third, scribbling down the first thing that came to mind.

Now he had to pay for it. Never again would such a lapse in judgement occur! From now on he would meticulously plan all of his future. Instead of being manipulated by the likes of Dumbledore into making stupid mistakes, he would manipulate others to do his bidding!

Yes, Tom thought, satisfied. His cat would never have to starve because of his erroneous ways again, the past him who listened to the summons of others about some ‘career consultation’ nonsense.

“Mr Riddle!” The insistent banging of a cane halted his train of thoughts and dragged Tom back to the present, away from his epiphany.

“Yes?”

“Were you listening to anything I was saying? Honestly, youth these days…” The owner of the enchanted shoe shop leaned on his cane, “These are the shoes with a speed spell cast on them, understood? They are not to be tried on, who knows how many thefts I’ve had of them, what, with the person suddenly running off like mad. Not to be caught, I may add!”

Tom rolled his eyes. Of course not, because;

“All the shoes in this shop are of the finest quality. All spells do as they should. Have I told you yet? About our quality control process?”

“You may have mentioned it.” Only about four times already.

“Yes, well…” And Mr. Heels carried on. And on. And on.

The killing curse was starting to sound like a good idea.

“So now, your job starts! Welcome the customers politely, and remind them of our quality!”

Tom was kicked out of his reverie yet again, dreading the impending day. He was now officially a shoe seller. He hoped the office hours didn’t run over, his cat at home must be starving.

“I promise I won’t throw around dungbombs.” Tom reassured the shopkeeper, who laughed as he strode off to organise supplies.

Everything had been going well. The word ‘well’ was relative to the situation; Tom had experienced considerable better moments in his life, but at least he had not died of boredom yet. He had even managed to sell a pair of invisibility shoes, which were not as great as they sounded. The wearer looked as if he were walking around in socks only, whilst themselves still being fully visible. The name was no more than a smart marketing trick.

All Tom was doing, was innocently doodling on the back of a bill, trying to rearrange his name. Really, Tom was such a boring name. It wasn’t even Thomas, just plain old Tom. And Marvolo was almost worse. Spellcheck didn’t even acknowledge it as a word. Finally, his surname Riddle - what, was he some kind of mystery? Was his existence shrouded in darkness?

“I am….Vole.” He muttered. It was not catchy enough, and he was determined to include each letter at least once.

So absorbed was he, that he failed to notice the small first years sneak into the shop. Although not allowed to perform magic, Tom learnt that day to never underestimate young children. They had to be removed before they developed the ability to speak. The younger, the better.

Left to their own devices, the boys had developed an ingenious plan. It was very simple, yet inexplicably effective for creating as much possible panic in an as small a time frame as possible.

Dungbombs.

In their school days, they had managed to enchant dungbombs to go off simultaneously. They were now, therefore, not violating any no-magic-outside-of-school rules. It goes without saying that the little devils were well out of sight, watching with glee from outside the window, after they set off the dungbombs they had planted into one shoe of each pair on display.

The result was catastrophic, the stench horrendous.

Mr. Heels came running out of the backroom in a hurry, abject horror quickly morphing into anger as he surveyed the scene, letting his eyes come to rest on Tom. “Mr. Riddle, what have you done?”

Tom quivered like a grass in the wind, “It was an accident. I… I didn’t mean for it to happen.” He realised that his earlier dungbomb joke had not been the best. He had never been a comical figure. He should never attempt to tell jokes again.

Mr. Heels gazed at him, tapping his cane, “No one _means_ for these things to happen. But it does not change the fact that you have ruined my shop. All the shoes are a mess!”

“What should I do?”

In later years, Tom would always look back at the shopkeeper as the only man who ever, truly, terrified him. Dumbledore was mainly annoying, although occasionally scary, but not as frightening as this man. He caused Tom’s gut to wrench convulsively with inexplicable terror when he looked at him. It was him who Riddle would emulate more than anyone else to inspire fear in others.

Mr. Heels seemed to grow ominously before him, his eyes glinting, “Run. Run away, and never return.” His beard was frazzled, his glasses askew. A dark aura surrounded him and he reached for his wand.

He did not need to be told twice.

Tom strapped on the speed shoes, like so many before him, and ran.

He did not look back.


	3. ALL FOR THE CATS

After his last encounter with a certain figure of authority in business, Tom thought it wise to find a more, well, _calm_ , employer for his second job option. This had led him to a secluded cottage in Derbyshire, located next to a river. Rose bushes grew beneath the windows and it looked like something out of a fairy tale, which fit its purpose perfectly. After all, it was the cottage where all the dreams of a troubled young teenager with no clue what to do with his life were meant to come true.

Now he was seated inside, calmly sipping the finest Darjeeling tea out of a blue china cup. The interior of the cottage was homely, with countless plates depicting playing cats hanging on the walls. Almost everything else was a shade of baby blue, from the couch to the walls to the rug in front of the fire place.

“And you can promise me you love cats?” The old lady in front of him squinted through her glasses, “You don’t seem to have had any prior experience in this job.”

“I assure you, my enthusiasm makes up for my lack of experience. I have read a considerable amount of books concerning the care of our beloved friends.” He took another sip. This was some seriously good stuff.

“Well, the final question then. Do you own a cat?”

“Yes!” Tom, the soon-to-be-evil wizard all but gushed, “She’s the most gorgeous thing! I have a picture, if you want.” Tom carefully unfastened the amulet from around his neck, an heirloom of Salzaar Slytherin and his late mother, and opened it to show the picture within to the old lady, “Here!”

She smiled, “Well, in that case, you’re hired! It’s the heart that counts in these matters. I’m Mrs. Umbridge, nice to meet you.”

It was the best thing Tom had ever done. Cats, cats, cats everywhere. Sleeping on chairs, knocking over glasses, peeing in flower pots. His favourite fluffy creatures creating havoc wherever they went.

His job was to help Mrs. Umbridge take care of the cats left in her care whilst the wizarding owners went off on jobs or holidays. So far he had seen a Scottish Fold, a Ragdoll, a Siamese, a Maine Coon and even a Manx. How many more before he had seen them all? He could hardly wait.

“Come on, Twinkle.” He cooed, holding out a treat for the newest visitor. “It’s salmon flavoured!”

Twinkle was not impressed and promptly turned around, fleeing from Tom’s presence. All he could see was an orange blur as she launched herself on top of the nearest shelf, emitting a faint growling as he came closer.

How odd. She was the ninth out of all the nine cats currently in the house to do so.

“They must really despise salmon.” Tom muttered to himself.

He tried again with a different treat, only to receive the same reaction as before. Looking up, he saw the old lady standing in the door frame, shaking her head sadly.

 _WHAT?_ Tom wanted to shout, but checked his temper. The cats would come around. They would grow used to him. Could they not see the love shining in his eyes? Maleficent was a cat, and she loved him! (Maybe he had slipped a love potion into her food after the first week, but that was irrelevant.)

Sighing, he decided to look for a cauldron. The cats would love him, if they wanted to or not. It was their fault that they had picked the hard way.

A week later, and preparations for the Amortentia were well underway. Even without it, the ragdoll, Laila, had warmed up to Tom and he had even managed to brush her fur once. It left Tom feeling hopeful, because maybe this meant that Maleficent truly loved him as he had stopped giving her the potion years ago.

He was sitting in the kitchen, emptying cat food into the stainless steel bowls on the floor when Mrs. Umbridge came in, her brows furrowed.

“I’ve had a complaint. Dearest Cleopatra, the Siamese cat we had, hasn’t eaten much this past week. Her owner noticed, and vowed to never leave her here again. I can’t help but to have noticed that I delegated the job of filling the bowls to you, and, well, yes. I’m _so_ very sorry to have to do this, but… you seem to not have the required touch our furry companions need. They are all so terribly convinced that you should not be associated with and that means you cannot continue this job. I am truly sorry.”

Tom felt like he was underwater, the words the lady was saying getting drowned by some kind of noise. _Should not be associated with?_ His heart was breaking. Still, her face looked so tortured that all Tom could do was nod.

He packed his bags, waved good bye to the cats (who ignored him) and walked down the cobbled path into the woods with tears in his eyes, before furiously wiping them away and aparating to a new future. Although, he was running out of options and his future was looking bleaker by the minute.

Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle loved cats; the only problem was, cats did not love him.


	4. The last option

Tom needed to leave England for a break, ending up in the east of Europe, because going farther afield was a bit to adventurous for his soul at the moment.

After spending some days chilling in the haunted forests of Albania, he finally found the blasted Tiara hidden in a tree trunk. He wore it for a week, but didn’t feel particularly smarter afterwards. Maleficent looked cute with the diadem perched on top over her head though, slipping down ever so often, so it would forever hold a special place in his heart.

Deciding to acquire more magical artefacts, a recommendable step when aiming to be evil, Tom started working for Mr. Burke. He met many people, one thing led to another and now here he was. Embracing life. Because…

Tom had never been a tourist before.

It was the second best experience of his life, after the amazing cat week before his latest job loss, also known to him as that-which-shall-not-be-discussed. He had killed a witch back in England, grabbed some much-needed funds and two sacred Hogwarts mementos, and off he had been on his journey.

He spent some days on Santorini, basking in the glow of the sun and trying to tan. After a month he was still white as a sheet, but he no longer suffered from a vitamin D deficiency. In Florence he ate ice cream until he was sick of it, after which he ate pizza until the mere sight of it made him want to throw up. After only eating pasta and pesto for a week straight in Rome, he decided to cut his Italy excursion short and went to Finland, so he could lose all those extra pounds by shivering as he ran across the snow covered landscape. Instead he stayed in a cute little hut, drinking hot cocoa out of Helga Hufflepuff’s golden cup and stroking Maleficent’s soft fur as the winter raged outside.

Really, being a tourist was a blast. Still, Tom’s funds could not, would not and did not last forever He figured that he should really get cracking on with the whole evil wizard thing. He needed to start making some hard cash to realise his ambition of world domination and an unending supply of cat food for Maleficent.

Many years later after the beginning of his trip, the last money he had stolen from Hepzibah Smith was running out and it was time to return. Tom was still doing some of the soul-searching so many people in their twenties do, and during his musings he almost tripped over a snake, lying close to the edge of a cliff where he had intended to dramatically stare into the sunset.

He bent down, studying the beautiful creature and the way its scales reflected the light. He had an affinity for the reptiles. Some called it parseltongue, but Tom liked to think he simply had a knack for animals. Why had he not put vet down as a career choice?

“Aren’t you a pretty thing?” He told the snake, stroking its scaly head, “Not quite as pretty as Maleficent of course.” He added, hoping to assuage the worries of his cat. Maleficent was hiding behind Riddle, highly sceptical of his new ‘friend’.

Maleficent knew that look in the snake’s eye. It was the look she gave the mice she chased.

“Now, now…” Tom crooned, “You ran away from home? From a muggle home? That must have been hard. And your name is Nagini? What a pretty name.” He sat down in the mud, allowing the snake to place it’s head on his lap as it wrapped around his wrist once.

Nagini blinked slowly, melting into Tom’s hands. How nice it was… to be loved by someone.

Maleficent miaowed.

“Tom stopped petting Nagini, turning his affections to Maleficent. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favourite.” He whispered into her fluffy ear as he lifted the fur ball into his arms. He scratched her under the chin.

Nagini’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Slowly she unwound herself from Tom.

“There, there.” Tom petted Maleficent, “Well, I’d best carry on my plans.” He told her, placing her back on the ground and brushing the dirt off his robes as he stood up, “I’ll come fetch you later.”

He turned around, back to the woods, heading away…

Nagini chose this time to strike.

Darting forward, she crushed Maleficent between her jaws and swallowed her down as fast as she could. All that escaped the cat was a strangled mewl as she vanished into the depths of the snake's throat.

Tom twirled around, alerted to his pet’s plight, but too late. He saw the white tail vanish into the maw of the other creature.

“You!” He advanced towards the beast, wand out and aiming for its skull. “How dare you!”

Nagini slithered back towards the edge of the cliff.

“How could you?” Despair now laced Tom’s voice as he felt the tears prick his eyes.

He wanted to kill the snake. More than anything in the world, he wanted to kill Nagini. But how could he, when she contained all that he loved in her stomach acid? He fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands and dropping his wand.

Nagini had no clue what was happening. She had been extremely certain of her death before. “I just wanted to be loved…” She hissed.

Tom realized then, that the snake had never known any love. Her home must have been cold, without care, stuck in a glass terrarium. All because of irresponsible pet owners, that did not shower their charges with affection.

“MALEFICENT!!!!!” Tom’s voice rang out over the cliff. His loss expressed for the last time. This was it. Now there was no turning back. His conviction in world domination no longer wavering, his too early midlife crisis forgotten.

He would destroy the muggles, whose erroneous ways of looking after their pets had stolen all that he had loved in this world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~


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